Smokin' Hot
by Matiesse Vice
Summary: Pinstripe Potoroo and Coco are SMOKIN' HOT! It's LIT! PSA: Folks, don't use tobacco. It's only glamorous when Australian taxonomy does it. Sassy little fluff drabble.
**Author's Note:** I don't profit anything from the Crash Bandicoot franchise. If I *did*, however, gratuitous potoroo sexploitation would be a series staple. 3

Flick. Flick. A frustrated sigh. Flick. Flick. Flick flick flick flick…

"Um, do you want me to see if I can get it to work?" A perky voice sounded over the rapid-fire mechanical clicks.

The potoroo turned to his petite, golden-haired companion. He quirked an eyebrow at her, and stared down his nose at her for a moment. "Doll," he chuckled and shook his head. "Yous can't PAWSSIBLY tell me that you smoke, too."

Coco squinted hard and pouted her lip out. "You don't HAVE to smoke in order to figure out how a stupid lighter works! It's a simple machine, God!" She raised up from her relaxed position in bed, and snatched the lighter out of his hand. He smirked, stifling the urge to laugh at her temper tantrum. He found them _adorable._ However, Coco's adorable sass could quickly progress into a _woefully_ non-adorable hellacious wrath. Pinstripe and Coco hadn't been together long at all, but he was already acutely aware of this.

"Besides," she said, her tone softening a bit, "there's _plenty_ I can figure out on the first go." she grinned a self-satisfied little grin at him.

His eyes widened, and he felt his face flush. He never ceased privately swooning at Coco's gall, her daredevilry. "You sure ain't kiddin', babe." said Pinstripe, trying to keep a cool exterior.

It wasn't that he didn't totally adore her, quite the opposite. He adored her too much. He already acquired a reputation for being a bit…trigger-happy, so to speak, and he wasn't exactly famous for a poker face. But the hot-blooded don of Cortex's para-mafia, hopelessly smitten by the female half of those two problematic bandicoots? _Naw._ It just ain't _fittin'_ , babe.

"Ah! It's just out." Coco exclaimed.

"Daaaammn. It was my favorite, too." Coco tightened her grip on the spent lighter, making a note to take it with her when she left. She liked having mementos of him around, it made it easier when she couldn't be with him. Pinstripe quickly got another lighter from the drawer of the bedside table, and resumed lighting up his cigarette. She gazed as he took the initial drag off the cigarette, closing his eyes and sucking deeply at his oral fixation. He exhaled slowly, letting the smoke out in a massive cloud.

"Hmm…guess I used it a lil' too much lately, huh Doll?" He gave her a cheeky look. Indeed, every time they physically celebrated their union, he lit up after they were done. Recently, this ritual had taken place many successive times per night.

The details of these sessions flooded Coco's mind at his suggestion. Coupled with the sight of her dear fellow reclined, puffing away on a cigarette, hair tousled in post-coital glory, looking so suave and sexy, she became mesmerized.

Pinstripe studied her face. Big eyes wide, jaw slack…was her tongue sticking out a little bit? A vague, haunting, familiarity swept through him.

"Yous sure are your brother's sister." He sighed. Crash didn't know,  
but if they kept at it, especially at this pace, he would very shortly. And that would be absolutely, positively, cataclysmic.

"Hey! You just don't know anything about him at all! He _is_ smart! You just can't understand it!" Coco protested, her voice rising, threatening to enter the danger zone Pinstripe learned to fear.

He smoothed his hair. "Doll, you know I didn't mean it like that. I just meant…I forget where ya came from." He said quietly. Coco bit her lip. A surge of guilt rushed over her. She was on _extremely_ friendly terms with the enemy that Crash risked his life constantly to protect them from. She felt like she was undermining his damndest efforts to carve out a sense of normalcy for their little family unit. Moreover, Coco was certain that there would be some grievously unpleasant disciplinary action on Pinstripe's end from Cortex and his goons. She didn't want to think about how serious it could get, all at her hands to boot.

Pinstripe suddenly became absorbed in his cigarette, like the answers to life's mortal coil were inscribed on the rolling paper. He twirled it effortlessly around his fingers. With a deep sigh, he put it out and reached for the pack.

"Gimmme one!" Coco demanded, hoping to shift the subject of focus.

Pinstripe stared, flabbergasted. "…Toots. Why."

"Because!" she insisted. "You smoke and you make it look cool and I wanna try it!"

"Awright, jeez!" He deftly snatched one out of the pack, and placed it between her lips. "Lemme get that for ya." He took the lighter and sparked the fire. "Now, put the cigarette in the flame, but don't breathe in. Suck a lil to get it lit." Coco fixed her eyes on him and did as she was told, obedient and trusting as a baby bird.

"Good. Now pull in kinda sl-" "HHHURRRHPH!"

Coco gagged, snorted, gasped, and flailed about. "I said yous gotta pull _**slow**_ , kid!" Pinstripe exhorted. He began whacking her on the back with an open palm.

Coco continued making a melody of gags and coughs. Pinstripe persisted in smacking her. "You can't be takin' hits like me yet! That's just your first one!" The hacking slowed to a harsh wheeze. He stopped whacking on her and drapped his arm around instead. "MY HHTHROAT IS BURNING." she managed to say, eyes watering.

"Cuz you ain't used to the smoke! I knew this was a bad idea, you don't need to be doing this typa stuff!" He felt pretty awful for adding another level to Coco's corruption. Being involved with a high-ranking employee of the very organization that sought to exterminate her and every person she held dear was enough to totally deplete her morality, if not her sanity. But Pinstripe had indirectly made her lie to her cherished brother, put herself in harms' way, and now the icing on this cake was he got her smoking. As far as he was concerned, he was her entire spiritual decline.

Coco noticed the upset in his face. "It's not your fault I was stupid and I didn't listen! You tried warning me." She attempted to comfort him.

"Yeah yeah, I try warning you about all sortsa bad things that you do anyways, and you never listen then either." Pinstripe folded his arms. His jaw clenched, and Coco noticed a slight, delicious twitch in the muscles of that area. She knew that he was feeling badly for some reason, and ordinarily she would want to talk it over. But that blasted jaw clench. That small motion reminded her of his attitude, his virile temper, his swagger, her deep attraction to him physically and mentally. She had seen that move when he was firing his most beloved tommy gun, smack-talking some stooge who wanted to give him sass, and as a reaction to her touch. It gave her a wicked little idea to cheer him up and prove to him that she could be a bad girl all on her own, thank you very much.

"Hey. You need another cigarette." She tucked a flaxen strand of hair behind her ear, and sat up straight. The sparkle in her green eyes Pinstripe found both intriguing and somewhat terrifying.

"Babe," the dapper marsupial started. "With you, I ALWAYS need a cigarette. You work the hell out of my nerves. I'm gonna be goin' through _lighters_ a day, not packs, if yous gonna keep on keepin' on with me like that. They'll put me in an iron lung, 'cuz you stay workin' me."

"Quit yammering, _Don._ " The gloves came off when Coco called him by his first name. Playtime was either going to be abruptly over, or it was about to start. He frantically studied her face to figure out which one was incoming. Her mouth was pressed into a straight line, but those baby greens of hers retained that sparkle. "Light another one." She commanded.

Pinstripe took out another cigarette, and quickly lit it, Coco watching the whole ritual. "Alright, nowwwww I want you to take a really big drag off of it, but don't blow it out, ok?" She seemed really excited at this point.

He kept his piercing, gold eyes on her, brows furrowed in confusion. He slowly pulled in, filling his lungs up to near-capacity with smoke. He uncomfortably held it inside, and shrugged at Coco to signal for the next step.

Nonchalantly, she straddled him, tangling her legs around his torso. Pinstripe fought to keep the smoke from billowing out with a gasp. Coco gently put her hands on either side of his head, fingers slightly sinking into his dark hair. She leaned in, mere centimeters from his face.

"Now, blow that smoke out slow for me." She ordered him huskily.

Pinstripe let the smoke roll off his lips, as told. Coco opened hers in turn, and rhythmically inhaled the warm cloud as he exhaled it out. It was absolutely intoxicating as it hit her lungs, a property that had little to do with the nicotine. He ran his free hand down her hair and back, digging his fingertips gingerly into her spine.

Taking in the last bit of smoke, warmed by one body to another, Coco beamed at him. "See? Can too smoke." She proudly crossed her arms over her chest. He chuckled at the minxy little bandicoot atop him. He boldly started taking another drag off his cigarette.

They were gonna need a couple lighters to burn tonight.


End file.
